


Dramatic Dweebs Make out #506

by fevershak (nataliecodex)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: IM SORRY BUT I WORKED HARD ON IT AND HEY ITS BETTER THAN NOTHING RIGHT, M/M, UNFINISHED AND LIKELY WILL NEVER BE FINISHED, idk love me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 03:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10453881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nataliecodex/pseuds/fevershak
Summary: 90% talking about feelings10% make outsI fully intended to finish it, but I am terrible and never got around to it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta'd and not complete, enjoy what you can

Sometimes in life you find yourself in a situation you never thought was possible, usually right before waking up from a dream. This, however, was not the case for Bard of Laketown, who had rushed to Mirkwood on an emergency summoning. Now, due to it's scrambled political situation, Laketown was not in any particularly ideal situation to be assisting a kingdom as large as that of the Elves. This was different from any situation that would appear a strong political intervention, however. There were no talks of an invasion, nor riots, and running out of supplies wasn't a thought worth entertaining; the human had understood that what he was facing was an incredibly peculiar situation. Bard had set out for Mirkwood immediately after receiving the letter (not written in the typical elegant Elven script, the ink splotches and misshapen script was an obvious indication of rushed work).

 

After hours of traveling by horse, too anxious to stop for food or rest, Bard had arrived at his destination. There hadn't seemed to be anything out of the ordinary, but as he approached the gates he was swarmed by castle guards. It was immediately apparent Thranduil had been anxiously anticipating  Bard's arrival as he was  quickly escorted into the palace, and his horse was brought to the stables. As time went on, he only became increasingly worried about the situation.  _ What could have prompted him to act like this? Even in war I hadn't seen him so worried,  _ Bard wondered as he was led through the vast system of hallways and stairs, until reaching the throne room. The throne room was more intricate than Bard had imagined, tall old trees forming columns, sunlight streaming in through the windows, illuminating the throne not unlike the luminous glow of a deity. His wide eyes scanned the impressive room, appreciating every small detail in the ancient wood, before settling his gaze upon the Elven king. At first, Thranduil had seemed his usual regal self, a picture of poised wisdom and grace, but this quickly evaporated into a kinder, friendlier expression upon seeing Bard. It wasn’t until Bard was standing right in front of the throne that he realized how...off Thranduil had looked. 

“I would guess you didn’t summon me here to see your throne room, although I would not blame you should that be the case,” Bard smiled, unsure of how to go about the situation. Thranduil’s face lifted with a ghost of a smile as he waved his guards away. 

“I am flattered you think so highly of this old room,” Thranduil responded, eyes scanning the human’s appearance. The king could feel his heart ache as he took note of how anxious and exhausted his companion looked, but there was an undeniable satisfaction in the fact his request had Bard rush to his kingdom as fast as he could. Still, however, he simply wouldn’t stand to see the human so drained. “But yes, you are correct. Showing you my throne room was not the purpose of this meeting,” Thranduil affirmed, trying to hide his nerves. It wasn’t as if Thranduil was romantically challenged, nor was he one to hide his affections due to feeling bashful. This was different, however, as the second the elf had laid his eyes on Bard he felt a wave of emotions he hadn’t expected to feel in his life again. The thought of losing these feelings a second time terrified him, even more so after witnessing firsthand just how  _ mortal  _ humans were. It went against every bone in his body to make a  _ confession _ of such private thoughts, but just thinking about how Bard could meet his end without hearing how much he had meant to Thranduil was an unbearable possibility. “What I am about to tell you is something of great importance, and I ask of you to listen to everything before making any hasty decisions, is that understood?” 

 

Bard nodded and stepped forward, feeling his blood run cold. The bowman had never seen his friend so grave, and he had seen Thranduil in  _ war _ . “I will listen, to every word you have to say. I would not have traveled so far if I was incapable of listening to what you had to say,” Bard said with a smile, hoping to ease the situation in any way he could. He knew better than to try to convince Thranduil to make his statements short and sweet, and wouldn’t dare attempt testing it again. Especially not now, when the elf king looked like he was about to split in half from stress. 

 

Thranduil nodded before speaking to Bard, who was now standing only a few feet away. “I am well aware there are many distinct differences between my kind and yours, but it has come to my attention that I am grossly uneducated in these differences. I am worried that these cultural differences may cause a rift in our people, or even a rift between each other.” Thranduil paused to analyze Bard’s reaction before continuing, “While I understand how this could seem insignificant, there are unique characteristics of our race that aren’t present in others. My race is one that feels, and feels deeply. Death is not something we deal with commonly, and when it does happen we mourn for many, many years. Your kind, however, you deal with death on a regular basis. Every time you get out of bed is a day you may die; my people don’t have that fear. When an elf falls in love, they love with their entire being. I don’t know what it is like for humans who fall in love,” Thranduil explained, taking a moment to form his thoughts before continuing, “could you explain what it is like for humans?” he asked, silently wishing the human would not question the topic in which the elf had chosen. 

 

Bard took a deep breath, trying to understand the situation. Was he relieved? Yes. Was he confused? Yes. Was he angry that he was summoned on the context of an emergency to explain love to an elf king? Hell. Yes. That being said, Bard couldn’t find it in himself to  _ stay _ angry at Thranduil for very long. “Love...love is…give me a moment,” Bard requested as he tried to find the best way to explain. His thoughts turned to his children, his now deceased wife, and his closest companion, whose blue eyes were watching him with an interest he hadn’t seen in years. “Love is, for humans, realizing that you couldn’t do without them. It’s waking up and thinking about them as the sun rises, it’s seeing them smile and finding yourself smiling back. Sometimes love is painful, agonizing even, especially when you are torn from the one you love,” his voice trailed off into a pained whisper towards the end of his explanation, before clearing his throat and returning to his description. “It’s something stronger than anything I have ever seen before. You could be the weakest creature in all of Middle Earth, but when fighting for someone you love, you can take down some of the most powerful. It fills you with something unlike any other emotion. Love gives you strength, power, something to protect and fight for. Love gives you reason when all hope seems lost. Love...love is the most powerful thing I have ever seen.” Bard finished, hoping Thranduil would understand his words.

 

Thranduil’s focused gaze slowly shifted into one of wonder. He had assumed that humans felt...less, than elves, but upon hearing Bard’s explanation, there was no doubt humans took love as seriously as his kind. The bowman’s pause did not go unnoticed, but Thranduil was well aware of the loss of his wife, and understood his emotion all too well. “It appears that humans are not so unlike elves in that aspect,” he said with a soft smile, “and who do you love, bowman?” he questioned. The response was instantaneous, as if the elf didn’t mean to say the words at all, but the question would have burned on his mind should he not have asked.

 

“Well, I love my children, but that was a given. They give me purpose when everything seems hopeless, and I want to make the world a better place for them. I honestly can’t imagine how things would be without them. They mean more to me than I can express, to be honest,” Bard admitted, smiling fondly as he thought of his children back home. He silently prayed that they were behaving and doing alright with his absence. “Who holds your heart, Thranduil?” Bard questioned.

 

Thranduil kept his calm and regal composure, but feared the worst outcome from the man’s question. His mind short circuited as he tried to think of the best ways to answer his question, but after a few long moments of internalized panic the words began to spill from his mouth on their own. “I love my people, and I try my best to make sure they know that. But I suppose that’s not the same type of love as you are talking about. I love my son, Bard. I love Legolas and will do everything I can to keep him safe. I know he’s no longer a child, but he is and forever will be MY child. Tens of thousands of years from now he will still be my child, and I will still find it is my duty as a parent to keep him from unnecessary harm,” Thranduil took a deep breath and smothered his nervousness into the back of his mind. “There is another kind of love, as I am sure you understand. There is the kind of love you feel when you look into someone’s eyes and your heart skips a beat. There is a kind of love when you would face an army just to keep them by your side. There is a kind of love that feels like a fire inside your blood, demanding to be fueled else it will bring about your destruction. There is a kind of love that takes priority over any logical thought in your head.” The elf king described, heart pounding like a blacksmith’s hammer as his eyes looked with hope and passion into eyes as green and beautiful as his forest once was. He took a deep steadying breath to prepare to let him know just  _ how  _ much he loved him,

  
  


when no words came out. The king’s blood ran cold as he simply could not will himself to speak his heart. A mixture of pride and fear smothered the words that were aching to breach the surface. When he tried to will his mouth to voice his passion it was as if  every muscle in his body turned into solid stone.  _ This is my chance! Do you not remember how fragile humans are? He could be dead tomorrow, and will have no idea how loved he is! Just say it! Say it, you fool!  _ Thranduil’s mind ran in circles, becoming more and more panicked with every moment that passed between them. Even though he could feel his heart beating like a war drum his body laced stiff with the fear of rejection refused to comply with his pleads. 

 

With a bright smile Bard had shown he was not the victim of such paralysis. His mouth obeying his wishes and his body free from the steel grip Thranduil’s was caught in, his response was without delay or the use of force. “I know that sort of love all too well. It always seems to come when you least expect it,” he said with a hum, thinking back to happier times. “I realize I have neglected to mention you Thranduil.” Surprise suddenly ran electric through  the elf, ending his panic and replacing it with pure confusion. Was this some illusion? Had he misheard the man? “You helped my people through some of the darkest of times and for that I can never repay you. In the face of war you had shown yourself to be a strong ally, and I had never once dreamt of you ever speaking to me or my people again,” Bard continued, thinking back onto the gruesome five sided battle, and the beloved companion he had gained from it, “and yet here you are. Not only an ally, but as one of the most important and influential people in my life. If you were to die you would die with half of me with you. I would be a hollow shell of the ruler my people once knew. Without your counsel my people would have suffered. Without your help they would have starved. Without your companionship I would have never known trust like I do with you.” He continued, trying to show just how important Thranduil was in his life.

 

Bard’s words sank deep into the elf. His blue eyes widened and he knew he must have looked foolish, but failed to find it within him to care. The only thing that he cared about right in that moment, was the warm smile radiating off this human, this beautiful  _ beautiful  _ man, who was speaking words of kindness, words of  _ love _ to him. Him! His heart filled with so much emotion the elven leader was convinced it might burst at the seams. Bard continued on but his words fell upon deaf ears. “I simply cannot imagine a world where you-” the man’s words were cut off as he found himself pulled from the ground and wrapped in two very long, very slender and very loving arms. 

 

The bowman was dazed for a moment,  _ surely  _ he had been standing on the ground. His face morphed from one of shock to a confused state, but before he could ask for the reasoning behind the shift of position, he found his mouth...preoccupied. Eager lips met his own and although he found the entire situation to be bizarre confusing and so  _ so  _ inappropriate, he found the (intimate, unsuitable, should not be allowed, unreasonable) contact to be...alright. Alright loosely translating to him kissing back against the other’s desperate mouth just happily without a second thought . He could feel a soft tug from the elf on his bottom lip, a gentle pull unmistakably asking for invitation. Bard knew he should not let the situation escalate any further, it had already gotten out of hand as is! Still however, found himself granting the king’s request without hesitation. Reason and logic took a vacation as he pressed himself closer to the elf, tangling his hands in straight golden hair while maintaining the filthiest kiss to ever meet his lips. 

 

Should this have turned out to be a hallucination, Thranduil was more than certain whoever broke the spell would end up dead or worse. Warm, kind, loving, brave Bard of Laketown was in _ his _ arms, on  _ his  _ throne, kissing  _ him _ , hands in  _ his  _ hair, he could not think of a single force in the world that would tear him away from this moment. Thranduil disconnected their kiss, finally obeying his lungs screaming for air as he looked over his beloved. Bard looked, to be frank, beautifully wrecked. The man’s breath came out in raspy pants through slightly swollen lips, burning green eyes half lidded as they met his own, it was singularly the most arousing sight Thranduil could think of. After taking a few moments to catch his breath, the human leaned up to capture the elf’s lips again, but Thranduil was more focused on a different area. Long arms slid down Bard’s back, pulling him closer as Thranduil’s mouth busied itself on his neck, kissing, biting, sucking, and nipping at the delicate skin. The bowman gasped and shuddered as his neck was ravaged, and wrapped his arms around the elf, who only stopped when he was satisfied with the dark marks promising to remain for days after. The more Bard reacted the more Thranduil wanted, and Thranduil wanted it all. The elf made a mental note to replace the man’s coat with something far more suited for a king, as he wasn’t sure the tattered leather would survive the winter, but adding clothing to the human wasn’t exactly his top priority at the moment. Greedy hands dove under Bard’s weathered, worn jacket and snaked their way under his shirt. Thranduil was awfully surprised to find that under his frumpy attire, the man had quite the small frame. Still somewhat out of breath, Bard shrugged out of his bulky coat as Thranduil pulled his shirt over his head. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
